Unable to help myself, fully aware of how stupid and pitiful it made me sound, I let out a whimper as I stood there, completely naked, freshly scrubbed, holding my wet sheets and pajamas. "Please, no," I sniffled. "I'll be good, I'll..."
"The clock is already ticking," she cut me off. She wasn't wearing a watch, which made me even more apprehensive, since it meant she was just going to guess at how long I took... It seemed incredibly unfair to me, but other than a wordless whine, I didn't dare say anything to that effect. Now, with the threat of a spanking looming darker than ever over me, I didn't dare do much, other than shuffle past her into the hallway, heart thumping as I made my way toward the stairs.
As I reached them, I slowed down, taking my time, being as quiet as possible. I didn't know how much of the conversation Holly might have overheard, but if there was a chance she had missed the whole part about the laundry, I didn't want to squander that good fortune. As I made my way down the stairs, I debated whether I wanted to risk a detour through the living room on the off chance she was still there. It would add to the amount of time I spent wandering around, which would add to my spanking... But if she was there, I could avoid that altogether.
In the end, it wasn't really a choice. I knew that if I had any shot of avoiding that punishment, I was going to take it, so I started creeping towards the living room, praying the nanny would keep quiet. She did - I'm sure she was just fine with the idea of me earning a longer spanking if I wanted to play around, though I hoped my commitment to my supposed lie would make her wonder if that was really what it was.
Unfortunately, and consistent with the rest of my luck, the living room was empty. My stomach churned and my heart thumped anxiously as I looked around, hoping to spot something, anything, that would suggest that Holly had been there, to show that I wasn't a liar. Desperately, I moved through the room and into the foyer, slightly relieved to see my purse still there. At least she was probably still in the house, somewhere. But how was I going to find her? I felt like she was watching me, silently laughing to see my this way, how she was meant to be.
Then I had a thought that made me even queasier. What if she was watching me... And I'd just shown her right where to look? I'm sure she wouldn't think it was a coincidence that I went there right after the place I'd told her the keys were, especially when the nanny was following me too close for me to even dream of trying to run away, even if I had the guts to try that nude. Mortified, and desperately trying to think of another plan, I just stood there for what I'm sure was far too long, until at last the nanny grabbed my arm and turned me around.
"Don't think this is going to work," she warned me. "You can run the clock up as much as you want... If there are too many for one night, I'll just spread them out over the next few days. And if you don't hurry up, you're going to have enough for a freshly warmed bottom before bedtime every day for the rest of the week. If you know what's good for you, you'll hurry up."
Squeaking at that thought, I followed her advice as I started to wander through the house. Holly knew the place and I didn't, so, much as I'd have liked to, I had to resign myself to the idea that, outside of pure chance, I wasn't going to find her. The house was even bigger than I'd imagined, and more beautiful, but I couldn't afford to admire it as I rushed from room to room, desperately hoping to spot a washing machine through an open door.
Finally, I found the basement door instead, and, after another brief internal debate, I started down the steps. I hadn't checked all of the upstairs, but I felt pretty confident that I'd seen enough to know that what I was looking for wasn't there. Another maze of rooms greeted me there, including one with a pool table, another with an array of workout equipment, and one with some canned food and a large freezer... But no washing machine.
I almost felt like sitting down right there, among the jars of green beans and tomato juice, and giving up. I looked up at the nanny, but there was so sympathy there. "Are you having fun?" she asked. "Because I promise, you won't be very soon."
I inventoried the basement again mentally, trying to make sure there wasn't some door I'd accidently overlooked. My memory didn't seem to think so, but it was hard to know for sure. I started to bounce on my feet anxiously, trying to decide whether it was worth it to make another round, since I was already down there, or to go back upstairs. I wound up making another quick circuit, finding nothing new, before I went back up the steps, clumsily tripping over the sheets in my hands, which were starting to droop dangerously low after all their jostling.
I had no idea where to look next, so, just to keep moving, I went to the kitchen, walking over to the door on the far side that I'd assumed was a pantry. I juggled my damp, stinky load and managed to get a hand free, pushing the door open to find... the laundry room.
I almost wished I hadn't, to be honest. To practically go straight for it after coming up from the basement was bound to look suspicious, as if everything up until then was a game, and only now did I realize how serious it really was. If the nanny hadn't been sticking right by me, I'd have gotten myself a few extra spanks to do a bit more fumbling about, but it was too late for that.
I stumbled over to the washer, shoving all my laundry inside, then looked around for the detergent, again managing to find it right off when I checked the cabinet over the machine on tip-toe. I pulled the bottle down and unscrewed the cap, filling it and starting to dump it into the washer before feeling my wrist grabbed from behind. "You don't need all that," she told me, taking it from me and emptying part of it back into the container. "You only fill it up to that line," she said, before putting it in and shutting the lid, starting the machine.
As it rumbled to life, I felt my knees grow weak and my mouth turn dry. I knew what was coming next, and as soon as I felt her hand close over my wrist, I knew there was nothing I could do to stop it, if there ever had been. I was crying even before we got to the living room, before she sat down and pulled me over her lap, bottom exposed, before I felt her hand rubbing my shivering bottom in a gentle circle. "I just want you to know," she said, "that this isn't for wetting your bed. This is for not telling me about it so I could be properly prepared for it, and then lying about it. I would have been happy to put you in some protection for the night, but you had to make things difficult."
I didn't dare try to explain that I hadn't wet my bed, or that I wasn't Holly. I couldn't say anything but, "I'm sorry." Her hand stopped rubbing, then moved away. I squirmed, waiting fearfully as I wriggled helplessly on her lap, eyes darting around the room, spotting both TVs again, and the shelves of knick-knacks, and a closet along one wall, its door open just enough for me to see inside. Some coats hung there, and the shelf above them practically sagged under the weight of all the board games on it.
It was while I was staring at them that I saw a movement under them. It was very brief, just enough to notice something shifting every so slightly behind the clothes. "She's there!" I exclaimed. "Look, the real Holly is in the closet! Go, get her! She's the one who should be getting this spanking!" Or I tried to say that, anyway, but as I began to speak, the woman began to spank, turning my words into a wordless yelp of pain. And that was when the real crying started. I thought the idea of the punishment was bad, but my sniffling at the anticipation of it was nothing compared to my response to getting spanked silly.
For the first few spanks, I was sure I could see Holly there, in the closet, watching me and smirking, but after that, my vision was too blurred to make out much of anything. And then, as it went on, smack after smack landing on my tender bottom with a loud slapping sound as I could practically see my skin reddening and swelling, I couldn't see anything, couldn't hear anything but that awful sound. I could tell that I was still kicking my legs and bawling, but it almost felt as if it was another person doing that.... All that mattered, all I could think about, was what was happening to my behind.
And then, at last, it stopped. Still crying, I collapsed across her lap, draped over it like a rag doll. For a long time, she rubbed my back and stroked my hair, reassuring me that it was over, that it had hurt her almost as much as it hurt me, though I found that very hard to believe. "This is why I just wanted you to be a good little girl," she told me. "Maybe now you will, huh?" I nodded weakly.
Eventually, she got up, picking me up and resting me on her hips. Almost instinctively, I felt my legs wrap around her waist, as I whimpered and squirmed to feel her hand under my bottom, holding me up. She carried me up to my room and set me down on the bed, leaving for a few moments - during which the concept of escape, or even moving, didn't even enter my mind - before coming back with an armful of supplies.
She rolled me over onto my stomach, on something quite soft, then began to spread something cool across my burning backside. After everything I'd been through, it felt good, soothing. I could feel myself drifting off to sleep until she rolled me over again, onto something just as soft, then lifted me up briefly to add even more softness. I smelled something vaguely familiar, then another cool sensation greeted my nethers, and she began to massage that into my skin as well. If I hadn't been so worn out, my body might have reacted in a way that got me into more trouble, but just lying still was all I could manage.
I hadn't even opened my eyes all the way before, so they didn't have far to go to close again. I could feel her continuing to work on me, pulling something up between my legs, forcing them apart, then tugging it tight over my tummy and securing it there. Half asleep, I still managed to whimper as I felt another pair of plastic pants snapped into position, recognizing the heat and tightness almost instantly, made even more miserable by the fresh redness of my butt beneath them. I was relieved not to hear the click of a lock this time, however.
I felt her working something onto my feet, and up my legs, something soft and thick. "Come on, sleepy," she said gently, "I need you to stand up for me." Groggily, I did as I was told, sliding off the bed. As I stood, I was a little shocked to find just how far apart my thighs were being kept. I wiggled them while she kept pulling whatever garment she was putting me in next up, further and further up my body, slipping my arms into sleeves, then tugging it up over my shoulders.
I started to push my hands further through the sleeves as she knelt behind me and started to zip it up, yawning as my fingers slid through more and more fabric, looking for the holes at the end. As the zipper was pulled higher, I got some help as the whole thing was brought together in the back, and yet there was still nothing. Finally, I felt a ring of elastic and pushed my hand through.
The other side was different, yes, not as soft and fuzzy, but stiff and padded, and most definitely not what I'd expected. There seemed to be a spot for each of my fingers, holding them apart from one another, spreading my hand wide. Instinctively, my other hand balled into a fist beneath the elastic cuff of the other sleeve as my eyes blinked all the way open in confusion, glancing down at myself... I let out a stifled yelp at the sight that greeted me, just as the nanny slid the zipper the rest of the way up, turning me around to examine me, tugging my other hand into its mitten as well, poking at it through the sleeve until it did what she wanted. I was standing in a pink footed sleeper, made of thick fleece, and bulging in the middle in a way that could only mean that I was heavily diapered beneath, a thought that should have occurred to me before. But the absurdity of it caused me to ignore it, to assume there was some other explanation for the bulk between my legs. There I was, though, looking for all the world like a toddler about to be put to bed.
With my useless hands I pawed at the diaper beneath my heavy pajamas, whimpering. "Shh, I know," the nanny cooed at me, pushing me back onto the bed. "I would hope you've already learned your lesson, but I don't want to risk you playing with yourself." That was certainly not going to happen in this get up. Even if I could have with my clumsy, mittened hands, to actually feel anything I'd have to get out of these diapers, and using a zipper would require an even more unlikely display of dexterity. If I could even reach where it was on my back.
I whimpered, squirming as she draped the clean covers over me tucking me in. "You'll have to do without sheets for tonight," she said, as if that really made a difference, considering how little of my skin was left exposed. "You look too worn out to wait for me to go fetch fresh ones and make your bed for you. And you should be, after that... You took that spanking very well, sweetie. I'm proud of you."
I wasn't sure what was worse, being told that my kicking and screaming was "taking it well", or that the thing I was being praised for was my ability to take a spanking.
"Goodnight," she said, kissing my forehead and slipping out while I was still too stunned to say a word. I wished I could have begged her to just go look in the closet in the living room, but even if I'd been able to get my mouth to work enough for that, I doubt I'd have had the courage. I whined and pouted, squirming under my covers, warm, sweaty, fighting to press my legs together despite the thick padding there, to maintain that little bit of power over my own body, and handily losing the battle, as I had every fight I'd attempted that night.
From outside the window, I heard a noise I was sure was my car starting up. I tried to sit up, to slip out of bed and waddle to the window, through which, I thought miserably, my whole diapering would have been fully visible to anyone out there and awake this time of night, to at least see that little bitch make her escape. But, weak and tired as I was from my long day, and even longer night, I couldn't even wriggle my way free of the hot, confining blankets covering me.
I'd never felt more powerless, or more utterly humiliated, in my life. That morning, I'd been overseeing my dream project, just a few days away from completion. That night, I'd been betrayed, stripped, shaved, given an early bedtime, called a bedwetter, spanked, diapered, and confined to bed... And there wasn't a thing I could do about any of it.